


there's nothing like living in a bottle nothing like ending it all for the world

by weatheredlaw



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Bruce a good fifteen seconds after Tony kisses him to realize this is fucked up.</p><p>Tore up from the floor up.</p><p>He really should leave.</p><p>He's just glued to Tony's face and like, it's not a <i>bad</i> thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's nothing like living in a bottle nothing like ending it all for the world

**Author's Note:**

> please take my computer away

Tony is looking for peace. 

Funny, that word.

Peace.

"Do you think you'll find it?" says a voice in his ear. Banner's, he thinks. They've been like this for a few hours, collapsed on the sofa, nursing their aches and bruises wounded egos. Tony's, mostly. Bruce doesn't really have an ego, not one as obvious. 

"If you can, I guess there's hope."

It's a joke and it isn't at the same time. It's funny and it's always raw and it could hurt, if they aren't careful. Bruce reaches up from his spot on the floor and curls a hand around Tony's exposed ankle. There's blood on it, dried around the bone and probably going all the way up his calf. The room smells like metal and guns. Like them.

 

 

They are always dirty when they fuck.

Tony is covered is ash and bruises and dirt and Bruce can't ever get the smell of gunpowder from his hands but it's fine. It's fine. _It's fine_ Tony says, his tongue heavy with consolations and probable lies because he is always lying about something -- 

it's never _fine._

 

It's strange.

Tony has always been about power.

Bruce has always been about peace.

It's strange, you see.

Strange that ever the two should meet.

 

Bruce's hands are knotted in Tony's hair as his cock slides between the dip in Tony's hip, building friction and there is a formula for this somewhere -- he can feel Tony writing it in his mouth with his tongue, drawin the equation over his back with his teeth, swallowing it when he comes, writing it all over again in the morning. 

 

It takes Bruce a good fifteen seconds after Tony kisses him to realize this is fucked up.

Tore up from the floor up.

He needs help.

He really should leave.

He's just glued to Tony's face and like, it's not a _bad_ thing.

God is he fucked.

 

"They're real scars," Tony murmurs. Bruce pulls his fingers from the raised, pale lines of Tony's back and looks at the ceiling. "I don't know when I got 'em. Probably Afghanistan. Or...or later." 

This is Tony's 'one time the person I trusted so much in this world tried to kill me so excuse me if I'm not fucking over it yet' voice.

Bruce is good at knowing which voice is which.

This is his least favorite one.

He dips low and takes Tony into his mouth because he likes his begging voice better and it means no one has to think about scars anymore.

 

Tony is looking for stability.

Funny word.

Stupid word.

Sounds a little bit like Bruce's voice and the way his hands settle on Tony's shoulders when he can tell he's about to snap and the way he took over his kitchen without asking and the way he and Jarvis have an inside joke and the way Pepper laughs at his jokes and the way they can all just live like this.

Yeah, that's what it sounds like.


End file.
